Bloodied Knuckles, Bloodied Heart
by PromisedRainbow
Summary: 5 times Father Lantom found Matt Murdock fighting crime in his pajamas, and 1 time he found the devil instead.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N): This idea was in my head for weeks, so I put all my other projects aside and wrote this out.** _ **Daredevil**_ **is an amazing TV show that I love more every time I watch it, and I could rant about it for at least 20 minutes, but instead I wrote this up. It took a while for it to feel right, so there were quite a lot of changes made.**

 **I don't know when Father Lantom was sure that Matt was Daredevil, so I'm leaving this scene's timeline up for interpretation. I set it up around the beginning of season 1 and before episode ten, but it doesn't really matter. Hope it's not total garbage, enjoy.**

Matt heard the sirens following the trail of bodies he left behind. The curses the police spouted, some in amazement, some in frustration, danced in his ears. Smiling, Matt ran across the rooftops, his heavy breathing in sync with his light footfalls, and the pattering of rain flying along with him. He paused for a second on a familiar rooftop to hear whether or not he was being followed.

Radio chatter.

Scurrying rats.

Blaring sirens.

He's in the clear.

Leaping into the side alley, Daredevil was about to head home when something was heard. A heartbeat, one that he assumed was a late confessor, leaving the church beside him. Matt slipped into the shadows, ready to leave when the stranger called his name. "Matthew?"

He froze, his head turned slightly to the noise behind him. _Father Lantom_. There was a second of silence between them as Matt considered making a run for it. "Matthew," the priest called out again, "please, come out." His voice was filled with anticipation; Matt heard a soft bristling of cloth as the priest fingered the cuff of his sleeve in nervousness. For once, the devil felt cornered. Should he flee in hopes of delaying their inevitable encounter, or should he stay and make himself vulnerable to Father Lantom's kind scolding and muted judgement?

There was a silence between the two, an icy river dividing them, something that neither one of them wanted to cross. But, after a few long seconds, Matt dipped his toe into the water, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. He heard a quiet smile on his priest's face. "Father…" Matt started, but Father Lantom hushed him.

"You don't have to say anything, Matthew," the priest interrupted. "Come inside, you must be freezing." Without looking to see if Matt was following, Father Lantom took a step to the church door and opened it. Matt felt the warmth cling to his rain drenched shirt, and he hesitantly stepped in. Gliding his fingers along the pews, Matt kept his head down, a child ready for a scolding. Father Lantom came back from another room with a blanket in hand. He wrapped it around Matt's shoulders and sat him down on a pew. Sitting down next to him, the priest clasped his hands together and sighed. "You don't have to wear the mask," he said. "There's no judgement here."

Matt took off the mask, his arms feeling heavy and heart thumping in his chest. He folded it in his lap before staring down at the floor behind Father Lantom. "I'm sorry Father."

"What for?"

Matt fingered his mask, hearing the cloth scratch between his fingers. "You don't know what I've done." He remembered what happened just a few minutes ago, how he bashed men's heads into walls, his fists stained with red. Matt beat them into oblivion, and now he was sitting in church, with his priest by his side.

God was surely playing with him.

"I've seen the news. How you sent men to hospitals, and-"

"Criminals. They were criminals, Father."

There was a pause in the air. "You don't have to defend your actions. I just need you to… I just need you to know that those criminals are humans, as you and I are. You're playing with lives, Matthew, and that is a very dangerous thing."

He felt Father Lantom's concern radiate off him. The priest's voice was so neutral, so flat that Matt couldn't tell if he was being scorned or cautioned. "I'm just trying to help."

"God will bring justice to the crimes they committed-"

"Justice?" Matt started. His whisper echoed in the empty church. "What about the woman raped last night, Father? Were her cries not loud enough to be heard by God? Or the children, kidnapped from their homes and sold to the highest bidders?" He gasped out the words, praying for an answer. "Was that God's will for them?"

Matt suddenly realized that his voice was raised. Not shouted, but enough to make himself flinch at his mistake. He listened for the priest's heartbeat, waiting for a reaction. Father Lantom's heart was still and patient, his feelings hidden well. "There are some things that can't be answered or understood, Matthew. There's a bigger plan, not only for us, but for the whole world."

Swallowing, Matt spoke under his breath, "Why can't we know for certain?"

"Certain of what? The existence of a higher being, the afterlife?" Father Lantom leaned toward Matt. "Child, certainty is more terrifying than doubt; it's what leads to wars, and each side refuses to compromise because they're convinced that they're right. Sometimes uncertainty is more powerful, sometimes doubt is something to be embraced," he said softly. "And you might never know. Maybe you were part of God's plan for those victims, Matthew."

It wasn't until that morning when Matt realized that Father Lantom wasn't only speaking about doubt in faith, but in his own life, and in his fight between what was good and what was evil.

Suddenly, Matt turned his head toward the door, his eyes wandering into space. "Matthew…" the priest started, but Matt interrupted him.

"Hold on." He stood up slowly, listening to the silent world outside. "I'm sorry, I have to go." Slipping on his mask, Matt folded the blanket and draped it on the pew. He paused, looking over his shoulder to his priest. "Thank you."

"Be careful," was all Father Lantom said. Matt nodded before racing down the center aisle and out the doors. Later the next day, Father Lantom heard of a boy saved by the mysterious man in black, and he couldn't help but smile.

 **(A/N):** _ **Daredevil**_ **interprets the Catholic church extremely well, respecting it and discussing moral themes. I'm not trying to reach up to the standards of the show, but I did my best. I'm not Catholic, so if you spot anything wrong please feel free to tell me. This chapter was partly inspired by an interview Andrew Garfield did for his movie** _ **Silence**_ **where he talks about fasting and faith. More chapters are coming soon, criticism and reviews are welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N): Again, this is probably around beginning-mid season one, but it doesn't particularly matter. Hope you enjoy.**

Father Lantom walked down the street and toward the church. The streetlights flickered as he strolled by a couple drunkenly staggering on the sidewalk, laughing and kissing to their hearts' content. Father Lantom passed by buildings and alleyways, trying his best to ignore them. Suddenly, he flinched. A sharp bang came from an alley. Smiling, he saw a stray dog emerge from a trash container, trotting off with a leftover burger in his mouth. Father Lantom kept walking, the giggling of the couple fading behind him.

When he was close to his church, small thuds came from another alley. Dismissing it as another animal, he strolled on until he heard grunts. Father Lantom stopped and walked back, prepared for anything to come out. The moon was faint, but he could see a silhouette of a man hunched over, leaning on a wall for support. He was panting out heaving breaths, clenching his stomach as he threw up on the floor.

The priest walked nearer. He was sure the man knew he was there; the stranger tilted his head slightly toward the sound of the footsteps. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the silhouette stood up straighter, his shoulders still heaving and his hand on the wall. "Father," the man greeted, his voice sore and raw. Father Lantom laughed at his luck; a priest and the devil, meeting in a dark alley at the dead of night. It felt too surreal to be true.

"It's been awhile since your last confession, Matthew." The priest stood there by the entry of the alley, waiting for Matt to come out.

"I've… been busy," Matt replied. He swayed slightly at his feet, keeping a hold of the wall for balance. Father Lantom couldn't see it, but Matt's face was bruised and battered, and there was a gash on his arm. His knuckles were bloodied, and he knew he'd have to make up with a good excuse for coming into the office with a discolored face.

Father Lantom eyed the shaking figure. "Too busy to take care of yourself, I assume."

"I'm fine."

"The contents of your stomach are on the floor. I wouldn't count yourself as 'fine', Matthew."

The priest was very convincing, because before he knew it, Matt was in the church, lying on a sofa.

"You're welcome here any time," Father Lantom said while pouring himself coffee. "I don't want you having to crawl your way home when you get injured."

Matt scoffed at the idea. "I didn't know that the church welcomes in the devil, Father." He closed his eyes, his stomach rolling angrily as Matt tried to relax. His senses were muddled as his head felt like it was being pounded and a fever was starting to arriving.

"The devil deceits people, Matthew. It doesn't save people, it doesn't feel guilt, and it most certainly doesn't get sick in alleyways." Contently, Father Lantom took a sip from his coffee, eyeing Matt's bruises and the bandage wrapped around the recently sewn wound on his arm. Matt said nothing, his chest rising and falling as he listened to his priest speak. When he didn't respond, Father Lantom moved on. Sighing, he said, "You have to take care of yourself. How can you try to save lives when you can hardly care of your own?"

Matt's eyes were still closed, and for a moment, Father Lantom thought that he was asleep until a small smile danced on Matt's face. "I don't think it's good for the church to endorse a man who fights criminals at night. Besides," he continued, "I don't think that the moral values of the devil of Hell's Kitchen and the Bible can coexist peacefully."

"Why do you come to church, then?" The priest couldn't get an answer before Matt bent over and threw up in the trash can.

For the next three hours, Matt fell asleep on the couch with Father Lantom worriedly glancing at him as he read his Bible. It wasn't until three in the morning when the priest had the heart to wake Matt up, fearing that he would be seen getting back home once the sun started to rise.

The fever was higher, and but still, Matt sluggishly stood up to return home. His face was flushed and stomach was grumbling at the food Matt had eaten, despite the fact that he hadn't had lunch or dinner. "Promise me you'll get rest," Father Lantom said as Matt was at the door. He was given only a smile of reassurance before the vigilante slid back into the dark night. The priest could only hope that Matt would listen, even when he saw a black figure leaping across the rooftops the next night.

 **(A/N): I hope this chapter was okay. It took a bit of refining to get it right(ish). Criticism is welcome, and reviews would make my day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N): This is set around after S1E10 and after Foggy finds out about Matt being Daredevil. I am amazed by the reaction from the last chapter! Thank you all who favorited and followed and reviewed! Hope you enjoy.**

Matt landed lithely off the roof, stumbling slightly before collapsing into a wall, staring up at the sky. An ambulance siren screeched by, muting out the rapid jargon the medics inside were spewing. On the gurney lied a man Matt had saved from a violent robber, his heart beating steadily; it was quick from the adrenaline, but unfaltering nonetheless.

He would survive to live another day.

Matt was able to smell perfume on the man from when his wife embraced him in a hug and the cereal he stuffed in his mouth before leaving for work. He was able to smell the kid's shampoo from the man's children and the scent of a dog clinging to his clothes and hands. Simply trying to get a drink from a store, the man was pulled into the dark, a robber beating him for his cash. When Daredevil came into the scene, he helped save a husband, a father. A life. But the accomplishment didn't linger in his brain. His thoughts were flooded by the memories of the week before, when he woke up stitched and lying broken on the sofa, Foggy's heartbeat not far from him.

His stomach clenched at the hatred and heartbrokenness in Foggy's voice. Right then and in the days after, Matt could feel Foggy's glares, the hesitation when he had to lie to Karen, and his heart quickening when Matt pretended to be blind. It wasn't that Matt didn't expect this reaction to happen, but that he refused to see the reality of it. Daredevil was a reaction to the violence he heard every night in his city, and he let the public know about his opinions. He took the city under his wing, the justice system being controlled by a single man, a single moral code. Matt did what he believed to be right, but he couldn't possibly know what his closest friend would think of it, too.

His reaction was with consequences, but Matt thought that they would be consequences that he could handle.

Foggy's voice still waded in Matt's ears.

 _/"Were you planning on telling me any of this?" Matt opened his mouth, but all that came out was a whispered cry. Foggy let out a humorless laugh. "Of course you weren't." He sank in his seat, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache._

" _I'm sorry Foggy." Matt let out the words out slowly, but he wasn't sure what he was sorry for._

" _Was any of this real?" Foggy asked, his eyes boring into Matt's._

" _What do you-"_

" _Us, Matt._ Us _. Were we real, because right now, I'm having a really hard time figuring out who Matt Murdock really is, so tell me,_ Daredevil _, who are you really: a criminal, or my friend?"/_

Matt took a shaky breath before letting out a suppressed scream. Raising a fist, he punched the wall, feeling a shock going through his arm and shoulder, and for a second, Matt forgot about Foggy. He forgot about the frustration building up black hole in his chest, he forgot about the anger in his best friend's voice.

And it was a heavenly moment.

One after another, he pounded his fists into the brick wall, his gloves unable to protect his bloodied knuckles. Matt threw one final blow before sliding to the ground, his heart racing and hands throbbing. He just wanted a moment of oblivion, a moment of unawareness.

A baby in the house across the street was crying for his mom. A bird fluttered past the alley. A girlfriend argued on the phone. The creaking of a mattress. The shuffling of blankets. A dog whining. A flatline.

 _Sirens, nicotine, smoke, shouting, honking, FOGGY._

Matt clenched his temples with his hands. He can't feel the city, he can't hear the people. Daredevil shouldn't be distracted. He has to be focused, relaxed, ready to fight.

This wasn't Daredevil. This was Matt in his pajamas, sitting in an alleyway with a broken heart.

Matt was well aware of the heartbeat waiting at the edge of the sidewalk. It was there, staring at him as he punched his fists into dust and as he sat there crying on the ground. And yet, he couldn't help but flinch at the hand on his shoulder as Father Lantom pulled him into a hug, shoulders heaving as Matt cried into his priest's shoulder.

 **(A/N): And that's it for this chapter. As a final note, the flashback isn't an actual scene from the episode, it's just one I made up. It's really short, but I felt like I shouldn't go into too much detail for a short scene like this. I hope it's satisfactory. Criticism and reviews are welcome.**


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N): Here's a new chapter for you guys. Sorry for the delay, hopefully the next one will come sooner. Thanks so much to those of you who favorited and followed, it means a lot to me! This scene is set during the beginning of season two, after the 'rooftop scene'. When?: it doesn't really matter. Hope you enjoy.**

This time, it wasn't hard for Father Lantom to find him.

Out the window, he saw a streak of red jump from a roof to the church's. He heard no sound indicating that Matt landed, but the priest went out anyway. Sitting on the edge of the roof was a pair of devil horns, dangling his feet off the edge. Seeing Father Lantom, Matt slid to the side and jumped down. He could see the bulky silhouette of the new suit, the horns protruding awkwardly on the top of the mask, and the material visibly thicker than the first costume.

Wordlessly, they walked into the church and away from prying eyes. They made it to the back room, where coffee clung to the walls and Matt's presence felt disturbing and out of place. He couldn't start to relax until he took off his mask and set it aside. Father Lantom couldn't see any injuries, just the weariness of the ears that have heard too much.

Matt slouched into the seat, trying to sink as back as possible. He rubbed his eyes with his gloves, threatening to fall asleep at that moment. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he breathed in deeply before going into a sort of meditative state of quietness.

Father Lantom poured himself a cup of coffee, something that Matt found he did regularly when the devil came in for an unscheduled visit. He stood on the other side of the room, leaning back to examine the side of Matt he hadn't seen in awhile. There were no visible signs of injury, just the subtly slouched shoulders and dragging feet. Father Lantom wasn't particularly concerned; he knew that Matt could take care of himself. But it wasn't the noticeable fatigue that caught his eye. It was the small glimmer of defeat in Matt's unseeing eyes, and the lack of hesitation when he stepped into the church, something that always happened when Daredevil was invited in. There was a few seconds of comfortable silence before Father Lantom spoke up. "I assume that there's a reason you come to my church in the middle of the night, Matthew."

A smile flickered on Matt's face. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Last time you were here, your knuckles were bloodied and broken, so I can't help but be curious to why you're here now."

Matt frowned at Father Lantom's attempts to pry him open. Daredevil's troubles shouldn't be anybody else's, not even his best friend's, not even his priest's. But there was this uncertainty, a frustration building up in him. Ever since his talk with The Punisher on the rooftop a couple of nights ago, he had this feeling of exasperation. Matt hardly wavered in his beliefs, but his frustration with The Punisher wasn't over. Castle's disputes became louder and louder in his head, but Daredevil wouldn't listen. He couldn't listen. Matt was irritated, even aggravated by the fact that anyone could believe such a thing, and the feelings were boiling inside of him, banging on his chest, fighting to get out.

Matt had his own demons to let out.

"I don't… Father, do you believe in second chances?"

There was a moment of hesitation. "You should know the answer to that, Matthew."

Smiling, Matt said, "Of course. My apologies." He stopped for a few seconds, unsure if he should move on with a priest by his side. "Have you heard of The Punisher?"

"... Yes."

"You don't think that he believes in second chances, do you?" He felt like a child, waiting for an answer and hoping to be right.

Father Lantom gave a small, humorless chuckle. "From what I've seen on the news, I wouldn't believe so, no. Perhaps he feels like those criminals took all the chances he had, and so he took the chances they had too."

"Do you believe it's right? To do what he does?"

Father Lantom didn't answer immediately. He didn't know what reaction to expect, or what answer would be the right one. "I don't, but he does. And who can stop that? You can stop actions, but you can never stop beliefs."

"But-"

"Matthew, you must think of it this way." He sits down and leans across the table. "What gives you the right to do what you do when you believe that The Punisher shouldn't have the right to do what he does? I won't condone his actions, and I never will, but you have to ask yourself why he's doing what he's doing, because in the end, you're both trying to do the same things for the city, you're just getting it in different ways. Only when you solve that will you be able to fix this mess."

Matt's staring at the wall, his ears fixed on Father Lantom's voice, his heart beating much faster than he'd hoped it to be. "I just wanted to know that someone else is on my side."

The priest sighed, almost out of pity, at Matt's sore voice and ruined heart. "Matthew, I don't believe that his action is right, but now I'm not really sure what to believe." Matt knew that Father Lantom meant he didn't know how to react to what Daredevil was doing, and he could understand that, because Matt himself didn't really know what he was doing either. At that moment, he felt unsure of himself; he had the city by his side, but what about his own priest?

"I'll never understand his motive or his actions. I won't understand why he believes that killing people is the right answer. Justice shouldn't be put in the hands of men. If it is, corruption and vengeance in the name of justice will follow, like what is happening right now. Matthew, if you must know, I see the light in everyone. I see a whole world of possibilities in each person." Father Lantom's eyes became glazed, transfixed in his own thoughts. "I see God's work in everybody, and if He, an almighty and perfect being, says we should give even the most immoral and wretched humans enough second chances to last a lifetime, we might as well do it. And you'll never know. Maybe if you give him a second chance, he'll start believing them as well."

Matt knew that that was far from the truth, but he smiled anyways; his burdens were cut in half, and now he knew someone, out of this whole city, believed in second chances, too. And maybe that was enough for him.

 **(A/N): This one was hard to get out. I had so much to say about The Punisher but I don't want to bore you guys with weird moral/philosophical stuff. Are they a bit OOC? Sure, most likely. Hope it's not total trash.**

 **At the end I pulled out some words from Father Lantom's speech at the funeral in s2e4.**


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N): This chapter was the one that I had no outline for at all, and I went in blind while writing this. It's probably not as good as I want it to be, but I tried my best with the topics and settings. As a side note, this is after the season 2 finale, but I have no idea what happens during/before the Defenders. I haven't watched it yet (it's a long story, please forgive me), so I don't know the time gap, I don't know how well Matt's handling things, and I don't know anything about Karen's reaction. I'm just guessing off of Matt's character, what I think he'd do, and some predictions I found on the internet. Hope you enjoy.**

Father Lantom was used to seeing the duo walking down the sidewalk, a hand on the crook of the other's elbow, laughter trailing behind them. He didn't know Matt's companion too well; he politely waves if he was passing by, knowing that Father Lantom was Matthew's priest. They acknowledged each other, and his name was sprinkled in Matt's conversations with Father Lantom. Even though there were just occasional sightings, the priest could tell that this Foggy was a permanent figure in Matt's life. They'd walk along the opposite side of the road, Foggy's arm waving extravagantly as he boasted a story of his late night adventures, and Matt stuck to his side, listening with a smile on his face.

It wasn't too often that they were sighted across from the church, so Father Lantom didn't notice the absent pair. Daredevil's visits were rare, and he thought nothing of it when a month or two passed by without the devil coming to the church. He was, however, aware of the fact that Matt himself hadn't come in a long time. His absence didn't go unnoticed.

He'd heard that _Nelson and Murdock_ shut down after a case. Father Lantom wanted to check up on them, see if everything was alright, but their office was empty, and he didn't have any contact information on Matt. Slightly agitated, he would find himself staring out the window at night.

The news was flooded with Daredevil stories, victims singing praises to the vigilante, and pictures of injured criminals being sent out to the hospital. And Father Lantom was scared; he was scared by the battered faces and the multiplying Daredevil sightings. They're saying that he's out at nights, more active than ever, and the priest is frightened by the fact that Matt could be spiraling, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

That's why when a mysterious clash came from outside, a silent hope rushed into his heart.

Father Lantom cautiously went outside, flashlight in hand. Away from the weary eyes on the streets, there was Matthew, sitting propped up on the wall of the church, arm wrapped around his stomach.

His presence didn't go unnoticed. Even when he went as quietly as he could, Father Lantom could see that the vigilante was aware of his heartbeat, that he could hear every breath and sound. It was a strange thing to notice, and sometimes he forgot that Matt wasn't truly blind, even to this day.

Matthew was stiff against the wall, uncomfortably trying to stand up. Father Lantom turned off the flashlight. He was blindly walking toward him, a hand on the wall as the priest carefully made his way to Matt. His eyes started to slowly adjust to the stark difference of lighting, and Father Lantom saw the outline of Daredevil trying to get up by pushing himself off the wall. The priest hushed him and assisted him back to the ground when Matt almost fell. He himself took a seat on the opposite side of the narrow alley, saying, "It has been a long time, Matthew."

"... I've been busy lately."

Father Lantom cocked his head in interest, a smile daring to dance on his face. "You've said that before, Matthew, and you ended up throwing up in the church."

Matt winced. "I… I don't really remember much from that night."

Father Lantom examined the man in front of him. He looked exhausted, Matt's head leaning against the wall in tiredness and his hand wrapped around his stomach. "I've seen the news, I've heard the stories. How much are you sleeping at night?" Matt opened his mouth to answer before putting his head down, almost ashamed of the priest's gentle judgement. Father Lantom hummed, acknowledging the answer.

"There's been a lot going on, Father, and-"

"And you've buried yourself into your crime fighting antics?" Matt's heart pummeled at the words. "Matthew, I thought of you as one person. One person, with one heart and one mind, but now, all I see is Daredevil. You're letting this… whatever this is, take control, and it will get you killed someday."

Matt wanted to give an explanation, something to calm his priest, but all he could think about was a night of devastation, Karen's sense of betrayal, and Foggy's back turning to him.

"I want Matthew back, but this isn't him."

His heart sank. Matt's ribs were bruised, and his hands and arms were sore, but he could only concentrate on Father Lantom's words. "I'm sorry… There's been a lot going on Father."

"We have time."

Matt leaned his head back and on the wall. "I messed up, Father, and I'm not sure if I can fix it."

"Does this have to do with your firm?"

"Yes… it's many things."

Father waited as Matt tried to delay his answer. "We have all night, Matthew."

Matt didn't want to give an answer; he wanted to go home and take a hot shower. He didn't want to have to explain his inner demons or his greatest frustrations to his priest. "It's getting late, Father. You should be heading back." Father Lantom sighed at the rejection.

"Matthew, when I saw you as Daredevil for the first time, I didn't see the devil. I saw the man who comes to gets coffee with me, who gives confessions with me and mourned lives with me. I saw you, Matthew, not a lunatic with a death wish. I've seen your heart broken, your ego bruised, but I've never viewed as any other person. But now…" Father Lantom paused, trying to know how to phrase his words. "Now you're destroying yourself. You have buried yourself in your vigilantism and haven't made room for the Matthew inside you. You are driving yourself into madness, and if you walk away tonight, I won't be able to help you."

Matt wasn't sure what to say. His heartbeat was strong, but it felt heavy in his chest. There was so much to talk about; Elektra, Karen, Foggy, Stick, and he didn't know how to explain it. In fact, he felt normal with the burden of his secrets on him. It was what kept him going at night, and when he let his anger out, all hell would break loose. Matt's been more efficient than ever, and his grief was a part of him, one that he didn't want to let go.

If he did, he felt like he wouldn't have anything to fight for.

Matt wanted to scream, because what was buried inside of him was burning his heart, and he felt it trying to claw its way out and into the world and…

He stood up calmly, unable to face his priest. "I appreciate it, Father, but maybe another time." With a fleeting smile, Daredevil left his priest alone in the alley, and into the night sky.

 **(A/N): This chapter was a mess. I tried to focus on one topic, but I had to rewrite it a couple times. I'm not too confident with this chapter, so I hope the next one will be a bit better.**


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N): Here it is… the last chapter. This was actually the first chapter I wrote, but it was too short, so I just had to add on to the original draft. Hope you guys enjoy!**

A man walked out of the corner store, groceries in hand, whistling contentedly into the dark. In his hand would be the first decent meal he would have in a week. It balanced nicely in his fingers, the weight of it pulling the edges of his mouth into a smile. He made his way to his room, only a few blocks away, in the corner of a small alley. Swinging the bag by his side, he hardly noticed the rancid food rotting in the garbage can, the pattering rain descending from the dark clouds, or the red shadow following him along the rooftops.

The devil jumped to the ground, his landing muted by the pouring rain. He stalked quietly among the shadows, a lion preying on its next meal, the devil ready to take another man down to the depths of hell.

It would be quick and painful.

When the man turned into the alley, away from prying eyes, he felt a swift hand pull his jacket. He was shoved to the ground, his food thrown down to be fed to the rats. In a rush of panic, he tried to push away the assailant, but he was pinned down. He felt the breath of another man, hot, rapid.

Angry.

In the dim moonlight, the outline of a pair of horns became visible. The man opened his mouth to scream when a fist connected to his jaw. A storm of punches rained down on him, the absolute terror of the devil poured out onto a mere mortal.

"The boy was eleven, and you killed his father right in front of him," Daredevil said, almost tempted to scream into his face. He grabbed ahold of the man's clothes, pulling him in closer. "And for what? His lunch money?" Rage seethed in his words, and a fist was raised for one last blow when he stopped. Daredevil turned his head away slightly, listening. Across the street, there was a heart beat. Another man was watching, staring in the downpour of rain, confused. Horrified. He heard a whisper, gasped out in silent terror.

"Matthew."

Matt let go of the man, letting him fall to the ground. His victim was barely conscious, blood oozing out and onto his face. Standing up, Daredevil let his back face his priest. He couldn't let Father Lantom see him. Not now. Not like this.

He rushed back into the shadows, bounding up a building and running into the night sky.

Father Lantom stood there, the rain drenching him to the bone, but all he could do was stare. Hands trembling, he grabbed his phone to call the police. He ran across the street, finding the victim- _Matthew's_ victim- bloodied and bruised, lying there, barely conscious and in shock. The man moaned, his breath quickening as he saw the silhouette of another. Thinking that the devil came back to finish the job, he wheezed out a gasp before fainting in fear.

Father Lantom eyed the broken nose, bloodied face, and terrified eyes the man had before passing out from terror. He couldn't believe that Matthew did all of this, with his blind eyes and warm heart. This was so much more real than what he'd seen on TV.

This was surely the work of the devil.

* * *

It was more than a week after the encounter when Father Lantom saw Matthew slide in through the doors, clinging to his white cane and stiffly entering the church along the mass of people. Even with his rigidness, Matt graciously did the sign of the cross before sitting at one of the back pews. Smiling, he nodded at the priest, knowing that he was being watched. Father Lantom saw the light bruising on the cheek and taped knuckles, but it was Matthew nonetheless.

The devil was left outside, put away to use when the dark creeps in.

 **(A/N): And that concludes this story. How was it? Total trash or redeemable? Extraordinarily terrible ending?**


End file.
